


The Endings of the Words You Know

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Literal Sleeping Together, Past Drug Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: Cullen demands that Cassandra finds a replacement to take his post. She's not having it.





	The Endings of the Words You Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DracoCustos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoCustos/gifts).



Cassandra prays to the Maker every night before she sleeps, whether she's at Skyhold or on the road with the Inquisitor. She prays for strength for her and her comrades, for clarity of thought, for a little scrap of peace before it's all over. Tonight is no different, except that the door to her room opens abruptly as she's finishing and the mountain wind blows in a burst of rain.

She rises from her knees and turns to face the rumpled, dripping figure. It takes her a second, not used to seeing him out of armour. "Cullen," she says in greeting.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," he says, looking already like he wants to go. He does not look well, now that she can see him in the lamplight.

"Come in." She takes a breath and steadies herself, never knowing what he's brought to her, how bad of a time he's having, and if she'll be of any use to him whatsoever.

Cullen shuts the door behind himself and just stands there, eyes down, arms at his sides. He looks like all the weight in the world is on his shoulders, forcing him down down, too heavy to stand straight.

"You've been chewing again," she says, taking his unresisting hand in hers. He chews at his nails until they bleed when he's overworked, which is always, or when he's craving lyrium, which is usually.

"You need to recommend a replacement." His voice is quiet, but he sounds wrecked. It hangs in the air between them, over the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth.

"Have you started taking it again?" she asks.

"No!" Cullen tenses, Cassandra steps back and scrutinizes his face. He looks exhausted, angry, fed up, but his eyes are clear. She still sees every ounce of determination he had months ago when they first met.

"Then no. I see no reason to replace you."

"Cassandra, I --"

"Hush. I've given my answer. You will not convince me otherwise, as I will not convince you. We made this agreement long ago. There's no changing it now. That is my answer."

She's right, of course, but he's nearly as stubborn. Nearly. He glares, tightens his hands into fists, but he says nothing.

"Come. Sit. You're dripping on my floor."

The fight goes back out of him and Cullen sags into the empty chair by her writing desk. Cassandra tugs at his soggy furs and he gives them up so she can hang it by the fire.

"Would you like to talk? I can listen. Or I can talk. Or neither."

"I just. I'm tired, Cassandra. To the bone. I've been trying to get some sleep, anything, but the memories… the dreams…" he trails off, but he doesn't need to continue. Cassandra is familiar with his history and she can imagine all the pieces he's not filling in.

"I should be taking it," he says, hushed under his breath.

"You should do what is right for you," she tells him, resting her hands on his shoulders and squeezing.

"The Inquisition deserves --"

"Never mind what you think it deserves. What do _you_ deserve, Cullen?"

He looks up at her then, not in anger or defeat, but with a trace of something else, like he's heard her properly, for the first time since they started having these circular conversations.

"Yes," he says. "You're right. Of course you're right."

"Of course," she agrees, because she knows it and, yes, there it is, it draws a smile. A tired, shaky one, but it's good to see. It's the slight hint of lilac on the edges of night, declaring the sunrise.

"You can do this," Cassandra tells him, feeling his shoulders tighten under her hands. He nods. She hopes he's convinced, at least to try. "And you should get some sleep. We both should."

Cullen opens his mouth a few times like there's something more he wants to say. "Can... Thank you, Cassandra." He stands and crosses the four steps to the door.

"Stay," Cassandra tells him before he can open it and let the night air in again. She's not certain that's what he was going to ask, but it seems logical. Cullen sighs, deeply, relief and fatigue together.

It's happened twice before, once on the crossing from Kirkwall, when Cassandra had the most atrocious bout of seasickness, Cullen sat with her and rubbed her back until she fell asleep on him, and once in Haven, after a too-long day of training found them both in his tent. This is the first time they'll have shared rest on purpose. She feels her heart speed up, though she tells herself it's routine for them.

Cullen strips quickly down to breeches while she snuffs out the remaining lamp. The fire in the hearth will burn down and, with any luck, not leave them too cold by morning.

Cassandra finds the bed narrow at the best of times, but they make it work, shifting until no one's arm is numb and no toes are uncovered. She murmurs a good night and he acknowledges by patting her forearm, the closest part to his hand. His breath is tickling her neck, but he relaxes a bit more and it turns into a steady, dependable warmth on her skin. It's not bothersome as much as it is a foreign sensation, but she finds it's tolerable. Enjoyable, even, after a few minutes.

She lies awake for a while, thinking about what, if anything, she should tell his fellow advisors or Inquisitor Adaar, if he'll get sicker before he gets stronger, if her bony elbows are bothering him too much…

"Thank you," he says, whispering it into her skin. Cassandra feels the flutter of his eyelashes with it, everything about him acutely close.

"Sleep, Cullen, tomorrow is…" she's not sure what she was planning to say. Tomorrow is a new day? Tomorrow will probably be just as hard? Tomorrow I'll have to leave with Karaas for the Emerald Graves and you'll be on your own for at least six weeks? Everything sounded either trite, or cruel.

She doesn't need to finish, because his hand finds hers and he knits their fingers together. "Yes, alright," he says, his words getting warm and slow. He's amenable now, she thinks, when he's sleepy and pliable. She'll need to remember this for next time they have this discussion.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Motion City Soundtrack's "Intersection."
> 
> Sometimes, I just want Cullen to be sad.


End file.
